


accidents never happen when a room is empty (remix)

by firebrands



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firebrands/pseuds/firebrands
Summary: Remix of navaan’s Love Me (Not) - Steve and Tony fall into a friends with benefits relationship and Tony is completely okay with that. Right?This is my take, with Steve's POV.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 31
Kudos: 264
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Exchange





	accidents never happen when a room is empty (remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Love Me (Not)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478893) by [navaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan). 

> this is my first remix and ahhh it was such a pleasure to go through navaan's fics, and this! THIS ONE. i had to.
> 
> big thanks to Desdaemona for the great beta work and free-2bmee, too!!

“Want to see my new apartment?” Tony asks. He’s leaning his hip against the conference table that’s just been cleared, arms crossed over his chest.

Steve looks up from his datapad. The weariness from the past few days had caught up with him during the hour-long meeting, exhaustion finally settling in as he slouched on the plush leather chair.

Somehow though, having Tony’s attention on him makes the exhaustion recede. It’s not the first time Steve’s felt this way, and he usually knows better than to indulge himself—still, he says, “sure. Pizza?”

Tony pushes himself off the table gracefully as he scoffs, “of course pizza. What do you take me for?”

Next thing Steve knows, they’re sitting on Tony’s couch in Tony’s apartment with a half-empty box of pizza in front of them.

Tony’s got his legs stretched out in front of him and they’re chatting idly about the movie that’s just begun to roll its credits. Steve feels more relaxed than he has in days. It feels so easy to be here, with Tony, in this space so untouched by everything else.

Tony bumps his shoulder against Steve’s, jolting Steve out of his thoughts. “Where’d you go?”

Steve smiles at Tony, and he hasn’t felt this _good_ in a long time. That’s it, isn’t it? Tony makes him feel good.

Tony’s smiling fondly, albeit a bit confused as well, at Steve.

Steve hasn’t missed the way Tony’s looked at him, telegraphing desire, and he figures, they could make each other feel good, couldn’t they?

So he leans close, placing one hand on Tony’s hip, and then one hand on Tony’s jaw, and Steve gazes deep into Tony’s eyes as he leans in for a kiss.

There’s a split-second when Tony stills beneath him, and Steve’s about to pull away but Tony surges up against him. Then Steve, for the first time in a long time, lets go. He slides his hand up Tony’s shirt, feeling the soft skin and hard muscle.

Tony is pliant under him, and Steve shifts to straddle him, making it easier to kiss down Tony’s neck; Tony tilts his head back and _moans_, and Steve shudders at the sound of his name.

“Yes,” Steve murmurs, hand continuing up the planes of Tony’s chest, and Tony bucks against him when Steve’s fingers graze his nipple. Steve takes the opportunity to pull him closer, one arm around Tony’s waist, kissing him deeply, and this is possibly all he’s ever needed in life, to have Tony Stark moaning under him, and Steve is happy to finally be here, where nothing matters beyond this moment.

Tony breaks their kiss to paw at the hem of Steve’s shirt, and Steve begins to unbutton Tony’s in turn. He’s giddy as his fingers work the buttons; no matter how many times he’s seen Tony naked, now Tony will be naked for _him_, and somehow that makes all of the difference.

Steve slides the shirt off Tony’s shoulders, and leans into his sentimentality by pressing a soft kiss to the metal of Tony’s synthetic heart.

“Steve,” Tony whispers, looking dumbstruck. Desire thrums through Steve, all the way down to his bones, and he rises willingly when Tony pulls him up for a deep kiss.

Steve braces himself against the sofa, trying to find purchase as Tony writhes under him, and then their legs finally slot into place and Steve pulls away to gasp at the pressure of Tony’s leg against his cock.

“We need to get out of these pants, right now,” Tony says, breathing hard.

“Right,” Steve says, chuckling a little as he sits on his haunches and unbuttons his pants. He sneaks a glance up at Tony, hoping to see Tony’s hands on the band of his own slacks, but Tony’s looking at him hungrily, and Steve’s cock jumps at the predatory look Tony is giving him.

“Let me,” Tony says, voice rough with arousal. He pushes Steve’s hands away and does it himself, and Steve holds himself still as Tony touches his side, cataloguing every moment as Tony’s hand rests just above the band of his briefs before sliding them down. Steve’s breath hitches as Tony’s hand wraps around his cock, and Steve unconsciously mirrors Tony’s actions, licking his lips in anticipation as Tony bends lower.

“Tony,” Steve breathes out, shuddering in anticipation. Tony’s eyes flick up to his for a brief second and Steve takes it as permission: he cards his hand through Tony’s hair, rests his palm against the base of Tony’s skull. Steve sucks in a breath, which is immediately punched out of him when Tony wraps his lips around Steve’s cock.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed. He can’t think, his mind overtaken by pleasure, by Tony, Tony’s mouth, Tony’s tongue… “God, Tony,” Steve breathes out. He flexes his grip against Tony’s scalp, and he wonders when his other hand moved to grip Tony’s shoulder. Steve watches, transfixed, as Tony continues to bob is head up and down Steve’s cock, reveling in the tight heat.

It’s easy to lose himself to the pleasure, but instead he notices the way Tony’s eyes are squeezed shut, the way he’s straining to take Steve. So Steve stills him by resting his hand on Tony’s jaw, gently opening Tony’s mouth up for him. Steve is momentarily amazed that even here, they can communicate wordlessly as they do in the field, but of course—of course. It’s Tony.

Tony takes all of Steve, one hand on the base of his cock and one hand on Steve’s hip—a reminder not to buck. Steve can already feel the strain on his muscles as he wills himself not to fuck into Tony’s mouth, but when Tony slowly drags his tongue along the underside of Steve’s cock, Steve gasps: “Tony, don’t stop—please.”

So Tony doesn’t.

Steve’s never imagined what it would feel like—hasn’t imagined any of this, really, and Tony encourages him to rock against his mouth, his orgasm building—but this is possibly the best blow job he’s received in his life. When Steve comes, he feels his brain click off for a second, a small explosion of starlight behind his eyelids.

When he opens his eyes, Tony’s looking up at him, lips red and swollen and shiny with Steve’s come. “God,” Steve breathes out, hand sliding against Tony’s shoulder, overcome with the need to keep touching him. “Good god,” Steve whispers, and then, like an animal run wild, desire wells up inside him and he tackles Tony down onto the couch. He bumps against the reactor in Tony's chest as he does—“sorry,” Steve whispers, just as Tony winces. He kisses the skin below Tony’s ear. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Tony swallows and nods, and that’s all Steve needs to begin unbuttoning Tony’s slacks. He kisses his way down Tony’s chest and stops when bare flesh meets bare flesh. He glances down to check, and there’s his hand, and there’s Tony’s cock, no underwear separating them.

“Oh,” Steve groans. Does Tony just do this? He can’t have planned any of this, so he just—Steve’s cuts off his train of thought and returns to the task at hand. He laves at Tony’s nipple as he wraps a hand around Tony’s cock, delighting at the way Tony’s breath hitches.

Steve bites down gently on Tony’s nipple, noting the way Tony groans out his name when he does.

“Holy _fuck_,” Tony moans, eyes wide as he watches Steve pause from worrying at his other nipple to dribble spit into his palm in place of lube.

Steve continues to pump Tony’s cock, smiling around Tony’s pink nipple when Tony cries out his name. Steve moves back up Tony’s chest to kiss and suck on his neck, murmuring Tony’s name in between little nips on his collarbone.

Tony pulls him up into a searing kiss, breaking away to chant breathlessly, “Steve, Steve, Steve,” and then his moan breaks into a gasp as he comes, coating Steve’s hand. The silence in the room is broken by Tony's ragged breaths.

Steve shifts and licks away Tony’s come from his fingers, grinning a little at the way Tony stares at him, jaw slack. Then Steve’s center of gravity tilts as Tony pulls him back down for another kiss.

Their kisses eventually slow down, and Steve pulls Tony in to let Tony tuck his head under Steve’s chin. They’re quiet, content to catch their breath.

Steve’s mind is a pleasant hum of static, and he’s still basking in the afterglow as he cards his hands through Tony’s soft hair. His throat is dry, and he figures Tony could do with a drink of water too. Steve sits up, drags on his pants. He picks up Tony’s shirt from the floor and hands it to him before he pours them each a glass of ginger ale.

They slip back into easy conversation, Tony leaning back against the cushions a Steve polishes off the last of the pizza. By now the moon is beginning its ascent, and Steve stands to leave.

Tony’s smiling easily up at Steve, and Steve’s happy that this is going so well. That it can just be what it is, no need to discuss what it _means_ or why. Steve’s happy they can just make each other feel good, and the idea that relationships have evolved to this level is fascinating. Steve wonders, as he shrugs on his jacket, if people were always this casual.

Steve stops at the door, turning back to smile at Tony again. “That was nice,” he says. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Okay,” Tony says, nodding at Steve. As the door clicks shut behind him, Steve hears Tony call out to FRIDAY. Steve smile at himself. Who would’ve thought things could be so simple?

* * *

Two days later over dinner, Tony’s thigh brushes against Steve’s. It’s happened thousands of times before, except Steve’s never had to tamp down the sudden urge to rest his hand on Tony’s knee.

Simple. It’s simple. Steve wills himself to keep it simple, for the first time in his life. He figures Tony’s done this a million times—so he follows Tony’s lead and doesn’t talk.

* * *

In the midst of a fight, Steve always has a lay of the land. This is why he doesn’t miss that, for a moment, Tony falters. It’s not that it’s the first time, or the second, or the third. Still, Steve’s at Tony’s side immediately, helps him back on his feet.

After everything, the team trudges back into the tower, then filters out of the meeting. They’re all covered in dust and soot, mostly worse for wear. Steve itches to touch Tony, a small part wanting to make sure Tony’s fine, even if a bigger part of him knows Tony is. So he follows Tony into the workshop, and is just as startled when Tony turns to him, a question forming on his lips.

“I thought,” Steve starts, then stops as he takes a second to gather himself. Simple, he reminds himself. Easy. “I thought we could take a shower.”

So that’s how he ends up on the floor of Tony’s shower, mouth around Tony’s cock, with only one word playing and replaying in his mind: _Tony, Tony, Tony._

* * *

It’s two weeks later when Tony shows up at his doorstep with a new uniform shirt to test out.

Tony’s leaning against Steve’s kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest when Steve slips off his shirt and says, “Bet you couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see me try it out, huh?”

Steve doesn’t miss the way Tony flinches, and Steve backtracks, wincing at his pathetic attempt at flirting. Steve reaches out, takes a step closer to Tony’s so they’re almost chest to chest. “I meant,” Steve starts, and Tony’s eyes flick up to meet his, searching, waiting for an explanation. “Ah, hell,” Steve growls, before pulling Tony into a kiss.

A small, shocked noise escapes Tony’s lips, shifting almost immediately into a moan as Steve uses it to slide his tongue into Tony’s mouth. Tony rests his hands on Steve’s bare waist, slowly sliding down to rest on Steve’s hips, just on the band of his sweatpants.

Steve worms his hands in between them, unbuttoning Tony’s shirt. He slides the shirt off easily, and then begins walking them back into his bedroom, his lips never leaving Tony’s.

Steve loves the way Tony feels against him, solid and strong, and thrills at the cold touch of metal against his sternum.

Tony moans into Steve’s mouth as Steve palms his ass, and Steve takes it as an opportunity to haul Tony up by the back of his thighs. He’s never been happier to have such a small apartment, and Tony’s breath wooshes out of him when they fall into a messy heap on Steve’s bed.

Tony keeps his legs wrapped around Steve, raising his hips a little to grind against him. Steve pushes Tony back onto the bed and begins kissing down his chest, tugging Tony’s pants off. Tony makes a plaintive noise as he straightens his legs out to help Steve shuck them off, and Steve moans softly when he sees that once again, Tony isn’t wearing any briefs.

Steve has never been a patient man. Without any preamble he sucks Tony’s cock into his mouth, making Tony buck up in surprise. Steve is relentless, revelling in Tony’s taste, Tony’s smell, the silken skin heavy against his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck,” Tony moans, one hand gripping Steve’s shoulder and the other fisting the sheets. Steve continues to bob up and down his cock, single-minded in his movements. He wants to taste Tony, taste all of him, need and desire swirling inside him, driving him on. He lets Tony’s cock fall from his lips, and it brushes against his cheek as he lifts Tony’s hips up. He licks and sucks Tony’s balls in turn, making Tony squirm. Then, he lifts Tony’s hips a bit higher, bringing Tony’s ass closer to his face. He wants, he wants, and Tony’s letting him take, and—Steve laps at Tony’s hole, his nose pressed against Tony’s perineum as he licks Tony’s hole open.

“Steve!” Tony cries out, and Steve stops, surprised by the urgency in Tony’s tone.

“Tony?”

“_Fuck me,_” Tony says fiercely, and Steve’s cock twitches at the command.

Steve nods, and takes one last lick of Tony’s hole before he digs around his bedside table for lube and a condom. Steve turns back and finds Tony with two fingers inside himself, biting his lip in concentration. The words about how he’d never done this die on his lips. Distantly, he hears himself let out a sound: “Ngh.”

Tony’s eyes meet his, and that snaps Steve to action. “Let me…?” Steve asks, trailing off uncertainly, not knowing the words for any of this.

“Faster if I do it,” Tony says, his voice low and breathy. “And I need your cock in me pronto.” Tony says it just as Steve watches him slide a third finger inside, and Steve feels his whole body overheat with absolute need. He reaches out, resting his hand on Tony’s wrist, and his mouth parts to suck in a breath as Tony lets Steve take control of his hand moving in and out of him.

“Jesus _fucking Christ_,” Tony moans, dragging out the vowels as Steve continues to fuck Tony onto his own fingers. A few more pumps and Tony taps Steve’s hip with his free hand: “Fuck me,” he breathes out, then says it again, more urgently.

Steve rolls the condom onto his cock and spreads some lube on, just in case. Tony’s looking at him with an emotion Steve’s too lust-drunk to decipher, and Tony lifts his hips up off the bed, urging him on.

Steve holds his breath as he lines his cock up against Tony’s ass. Tony’s holding his breath too, Steve realizes dimly, and then he pushes his cock in and all thought leaks out his ears.

“Oh, god,” Steve hears himself say, and this is the closest he’s gotten to a religious experience, maybe, sliding slowly inside Tony, and under him Tony’s moaning openly, wantonly. Steve places a hand on Tony’s hip, holding him up easily, and keeps him in place once his hips are flush against Tony’s ass.

“Fucking fuck,” Tony says under his breath. His eyes are squeezed shut, his cheeks flushed pink. Steve reaches out and touches Tony’s jaw, making Tony’s eyes fly open.

Steve gazes into Tony’s eyes as he slides out, breathing through his mouth. Tony watches, his own lips parting open, and all the breath is punched out of him when Steve slams back in.

Tony feels impossibly good, and Steve loses himself in Tony’s body, kissing and biting and sucking all the areas he can reach. His hands slide and slip off Tony’s sweat-slick skin, and Steve groans when he feels Tony’s nails digging into his back, then his shoulders, then his arms. Tony’s a mess beneath him, alternating between moaning Steve’s name and praising Steve: “yes, yes, you’re so fucking good, Steve, Steve, Steve.”

Tony begins to stroke his cock and Steve watches, unbelievably turned on at the sight of Tony getting himself off while Steve’s fucking him. Steve fucks Tony harder, groaning as he watches Tony’s cock bob up and down under Tony’s fist.

“I’m going to, fuck, fuck, don’t stop,” Tony moans, eyes squeezed shut, his free hand on the base of Steve’s skull, as if Steve needed to be reminded to look at him.

Tony cries out when he comes, clenching around Steve as he paints their stomachs with his come. Steve stills as he watches Tony come undone, the way his thighs tremble, the way Tony’s breaths are ragged.

Tony opens his eyes when Steve bends down to press a kiss on the base of Tony’s neck. “What are you doing?” Tony murmurs. “Don’t stop.”

Steve begins fucking Tony again, a part of him suddenly driven by the permission to continue. His thrusts grow erratic as he chases his own orgasm, and Tony watches him, bright eyed.

“Come for me,” Tony whispers, his voice raw and that _does_ it—Tony wraps his legs around Steve’s waist as Steve comes, smiling contentedly as Steve’s cock continues to pulse inside him.

Steve’s trembling by the time he’s done, and Tony’s legs fall back to the bed as Steve slowly pulls out. He grabs a fistful of tissue to clean them up, and wraps up the condom. Tony rolls his eyes when Steve shoots the wad of tissues perfectly into the bin. Steve chuckles at Tony’s irritation, pulling him into his arms and pressing a soft kiss to Tony’s cheek.

Just as he’s about to nod off, he feels Tony begin to shift, as if to leave. So Steve tightens his embrace around Tony’s waist.

Tony spends the night, and Steve makes him coffee in the morning, and Tony kisses him on the lips before he leaves.

* * *

For all Steve’s promises to himself that he was keeping this simple and casual, he can’t help but notice he’s always the one initiating. Steve punches harder than necessary on the reinforced bag.

Maybe Tony just has other people on his roster, maybe Tony never has to ask for anything. Maybe, Steve thinks, this is what it means to be casually sleeping with someone.

He frowns, stopping the swaying of the bag with his fist.

Of course, this is when Tony decides to saunter in. Steve frowns some more.

Tony calls out to him and asks him to spar, and Steve knows better than to spar when he’s emotional, but it’s Tony. He never could say no to him.

Two rounds later, Steve is compromised and on his back, breathing hard.

Tony’s hovering over him, a smirk on his lips.

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs, moving to push Tony off him, except—Tony sits down on Steve’s waist, his ass resting just above Steve’s cock.

A small, confused sound escapes Steve’s throat before he can fully take control of himself. The smirk doesn’t leave Tony’s lips as he bends lower and lower, nipping playfully on Steve’s lower lip before kissing him.

Steve’s hands move on their own volition, one to Tony’s jaw, the other to Tony’s hip, holding him down as Steve grinds up against the swell of Tony’s ass. Dazedly, Steve thinks: _Ah hell._

Later—much later—lying on the mats and feeling the heat come off him in waves, Steve figures he’s had enough of this nonsense. Maybe he wasn’t built to be casual. Damn his need to reach out to Tony, his need to be close, the urge to hold Tony’s hand while everyone is looking. How could he have thought any of this would be simple?

* * *

Steve doesn’t miss the way Tony’s gaze tracks after him, doesn’t miss the way that, at least for the first two weeks, Tony tries to single him out.

But Steve won’t let him.

In an unsurprising return to form, Steve tells himself it’s easier this way, to just put it down and not pick it up.

Except, he finds himself searching Tony out, too, when he’s not actively reminding himself to do otherwise. It’s strange, this pull Tony has on him. Makes him feel helpless, like a planet stuck in orbit around the bright sun of Tony’s existence.

This is probably why he ends up alone with Tony in the living room, long after everyone had left. Tony, for a second, looks surprised; then he starts talking about something mission related, and Steve _wants_. So he reaches out, rests two fingers on Tony’s jaw, and pulls him in for a kiss.

They keep kissing as they stumble over furniture as they make their way to the elevator, then later on stumble around Tony’s penthouse on the way to the bed, and then their shirts are on the floor.

Things are going so fast. Things are going so fast and Steve wants to slow it down, wants to relish the chance to have Tony look at him like that, like he _wants_ Steve too, and Steve comes when Tony cries out his name like he’s done so many times before.

Tony is lying boneless half on top of him and Steve traces the angles of Tony’s profile with his eyes. He’s beautiful, and Steve wants nothing more than to pull him closer, keep him this close, all the time, forever.

Instead, Steve shuts his eyes and whispers to the back of Tony’s head, “This is okay, right?”

Tony shifts to look up at Steve. “This?”

Steve is at a loss for words. “This,” he says, then gestures between them. “That I come to you, when—”

Tony turns back so his cheek is resting solidly on Steve’s chest. “Yeah Steve, it’s all right,” he huffs.

Steve briefly considers asking what else would be okay? Could we—maybe? Instead, he comforts himself by stroking Tony’s hair, as if trying to figure out Tony’s thoughts through osmosis.

* * *

The room is filled with smoke, and Steve barely has the energy to glance up when the door slides open. It plays out like a fever dream: Tony stumbling in, stumbling around, and Steve’s vision is hazy. What no one really says about passing out is that the last thing to shut down in your sense of hearing. Which is well and good, because the last thing he hears is Tony’s voice, metallic through the filter of the helmet: “Sorry, Tony, but Captain America is more important than you.”

Steve is jolted awake by the sound of glass shattering. Two hands under his armpits hoist him up, and Steve coughs out. “Panther?”

“Easy, Captain,” T’challa says, one hand on Steve’s back, helping him out of the cage.

Steve coughs some more. He can barely move. “Tony?”

T’challa shifts so he can help Steve to see Tony slumped on the floor. “I think he saved your life, exposed himself so he could give you CPR,” he says, sounding reverent.

Steve coughs once more, then takes a second to collect himself. He steps back into the cell and raises Tony’s head to rest on his lap, careful to be gentle. Panic has been building roiling in his belly, and he takes a steadying breath as he smooths away Tony’s hair from his face. “We need to help him,” Steve says, hoping his voice is stable.

T’challa grunts in response, and Steve is left, cradling Tony’s head. “You idiot,” Steve murmurs, stripping off his gloves so he can feel Tony’s skin against his. He doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t care about the glass, or the remnants of the virus floating around. He doesn’t care about who’ll see.

Steve carries Tony back to the quinjet, and then later to the medical bed once they’re in the tower. As the doctors begin treatment, pumping Tony with an airborne antidote, Steve stays by Tony’s side and waves off anyone who tries to patch him up. One of the doctors takes a hold of Steve’s wrist to get his attention, and reminds him that Tony’s throat is raw from the virus, and that he needs to keep the mask on.

Soon, it’s just the two of them, and Steve drags a chair forward so he can sit by Tony’s side.

What did Tony mean, more important than him? Steve wants to shake Tony awake just to yell at him. At the same time, he wants to tuck himself up against Tony, rest his hand on Tony’s chest and listen to him breathe, fall asleep beside him, calmed down by the fact of his pulse._ Tony, Tony, Tony, _Steve thinks, shaking his head in disbelief.

Steve settles with taking Tony’s hand in his.

Steve can’t say how long it takes for Tony to wake, but what he can say is this: It’s always been fascinating watching Tony wake up. His eyebrows are the first to move, down into a frown, like he doesn’t want to be here, wherever here is.

Tony opens his eyes slowly and surveys the room, and Steve really does want to shake him awake, now, still wants to yell at him for doing something so absurd, and for saying what he said. But Steve swallows it all down, not wanting to startle the man who’s saved his life.

“I heard what you said, Tony,” Steve says. His voice is gruffer than he intends it to be, and Tony turns to assess Steve.

Steve pauses and Tony’s looking at Steve, eyes wide, like he’s shocked to see Steve there. With his free hand, he moves to take off the oxygen mask, but Steve stops him. “Antidote,” Steve says, and Tony deflates onto the bed, giving Steve a brief nod.

Steve takes a deep breath, and they’re silent for a moment. “It's not true, you know? I'm not more important than anybody else,” he says, before swallowing and looking away. He’s staring at the ground when he murmurs, “I'm sure as hell not worth killing yourself over.”

Steve sighs, the exhaustion of the fight finally settling on him, his body feeling weak and useless now that his adrenaline’s run out, now that he’s sure Tony’s alive and okay. “I’m sorry,” he says, finally. Tony rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles in response, and the gesture is immense; almost immediately, Steve feels a bit better, like he always does, because it’s _Tony_.

Steve smiles briefly down at the floor, not really knowing what to do with himself. He could’ve lost him. He could’ve lost Tony. He can’t risk that again, no matter how complicated it might end up being; look at what trying for simple got him. What was the phrase? In for a penny?

“I guess I needed the wake up call,” Steve admits, and then Tony stills. “I thought—I told myself that I would try to keep it simple, to keep it casual. I thought that that’s all I wanted. That that’s all _you_ wanted. That we could just make each other feel good for a while.” Steve bites his lip, then takes a deep breath.

“Tony,” he starts, “I’m not okay with that. I’m sorry we never talked about this and you...” Steve sighs and leans back on the chair, massaging his temples with his free hand before finally looking at Tony’s face. “You love me, don’t you?,” Steve finishes. He’s afraid to see mockery on Tony’s face, or annoyance at the implication, but instead Tony looks worried.

Steve breathes out again, then inches closer to rest his head on Tony’s chest. “Please, never do that again,” he says. “Don’t scare me like that again. I don’t think my brain can handle the idea of holding you in my arms as you’re dying more than twice—actually, once is one too many, Tony,” Steve says, and he feels his voice break a little when he says Tony’s name, because damn this genius for being such an idiot, sometimes.

Tony strokes Steve’s hair with his free hand, a small, plaintive noise making its way through the oxygen mask.

Steve looks up at Tony, and Tony smiles down at him, looking a little embarrassed. Tony reaches over and strokes Steve’s cheek.

“Just so you know,” Steve says as he turns to press his face against Tony’s palm, “When this is all wrapped up, we are going to sit down and have a good long talk, and I'll be terribly quaint and long-winded and demanding.” Steve stops, and Tony nods, biting his lip.

“But you can choose the restaurant,” Steve concedes, and it’s worth it to see Tony smile at him like that. “Because I love you, too.”

Tony laughs into the mask and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Good, then it’s agreed,” Steve says, mirroring Tony’s grin. He leans over and presses a kiss on the bridge of Tony’s nose, right above the mask, then raises Tony’s hand to his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://firebrands.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/firebrandss)!


End file.
